


Reading Days

by GaryTheFish



Series: Hope is a Four Letter Word [45]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Loki - Canon Divergence, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaryTheFish/pseuds/GaryTheFish
Summary: When a holiday might not be a holiday, but it's certainly a celebration Loki can fully support.





	

_ He is awake before the alarm goes off. He generally is, to be honest, but there are those few times that they are both sleeping when the music begins, softly at first but the volume increasing with every one of the minutes it takes her to unwind herself from him and turn it off. She tried turning it off the other way, only once. It had been the work of an hour to get the poor machine out of the wall, and almost a week before they had time to fix the hole.  _

_ She is still asleep, her body wrapped tightly around his and her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He breathes the warm, sleepy scent of her skin, mingled with his own in the soft cotton sheets, and it is sweeter to him than any perfume. He feels a gentle but familiar prickle at the base of his spine, and he cranes his head around to see the time. _

_ Thirteen minutes. Not enough. The music will start; she will climb over him with a kiss and silence it on her way to the shower, and he will not stop her. He used to. At least, he used to try. _

_ It had been a long day; they had given up on adulthood for the evening and were in the middle of making breakfast for dinner when he had asked her why she never lingered in the mornings. He had dropped batter with precision onto the hot griddle, wondering aloud if she was embarrassed by the fact that they were together. There had been a smile on his face to cover the fact that he was only half joking.  _

_ Her face had been serious. It’s not their business, she’d told him as she had flipped pancakes and checked eggs. If I showed up rushed and in yesterday’s clothes, she had said, it would give them something to talk about. They don’t get to talk. It’s not their right. They don’t get to guess what it’s like to be with you. To hold you. To hear my name on your lips. To feel your touch on every inch of my body. To be intertwined with you so tightly that I can’t tell where I end and you begin. You and I, she had continued, we’re perfection. But to them, we’d just be a conversation piece. An adorable joke. A cheap thrill over morning coffee, and that’s not something I will ever give them. _

_ Not embarrassed, she had explained, tossing pancakes onto plates with an easy rhythm. Just selfish. Very, very selfish. _

_ It had been the right answer. The best answer she could have given, and he had told her as much, right there on the kitchen floor while their food got cold and their drinks got warm and neither of them cared one bit. _

_ He smiles at the memory, his hand drifting lightly along her back. He stretches the other arm as far as it will go but cannot reach the clock. He extricates himself from her, wishing for the thousandth time that he could borrow just a hint of what she carries. He nearly falls from the bed, catching himself just in time and smacking the button that cancels the alarm. She makes an unhappy noise in her sleep, burrowing against him just as he regains his spot, dignity largely intact. _

_ He kisses her, his lips soft on hers, pulling back before repeating the gesture a little more insistently. He feels her come awake in his arms, her eyes still closed as she responds. He breaks away from her reluctantly, moving his lips to her forehead. _

_ “You’re going to be late,” he says. _

_ Her eyes stay shut. “Won’t,” she tells him. “It’s a holiday.” _

_ He blinks, confused. It’s not a holiday, not that he remembers. “Isn’t,” he says, almost automatically. _

_ She throws a leg over him, pulling him closer as she slides an arm around his neck. “Is,” she replies. “It’s a reading day. Tomorrow, too.” _

_ A whole holiday for books? Perhaps this place isn’t as hopeless as he thinks. “I’m not sure what that means,” he says, kissing her again. His lips brush along her jaw, and her head falls back just enough to let them. “But I admit I’m intrigued.” _

_ “It means I sleep until ten,” she answers, “and then I spend the rest of the day lounging around in my pajamas and grading papers while the man of my dreams makes me waffles instead of going to work.” _

_ “Sounds delightful.” He leans against her, pushing her back against the pillow and working his way down her neck. “And what of your students? What do they do on this holiday?” _

_ “They drink. They study. Mostly drink, while they wait with bated breath to see what final horror I’ll be unleashing upon them.” _

_ “Two days with you to myself,” he says, unable to keep from grinning as he moves on to her collarbone. “I like these reading days.” _

_ She laughs, still drowsy. Her fingers trace through his hair. “I thought you might.” He hits a sensitive spot, and her back arches a little. “Not all to yourself, though. I have work to do, remember?” _

_ “Not to worry,” he says into the hollow of her throat. “I’ll help you with the papers.” _

_ “Hmm,” she replies as he nudges back the sheets, covering her body with his instead. “They like it when you help. The more outlandish their theories are, the higher you grade them.” _

_ “You know me.” He nibbles his way along the other collarbone, one hand sliding down her ribs. “I believe unorthodox thinking should be rewarded.” _

_ “The Uffington Horse,” she says, her breath a little uneven, “was not designed and installed by aliens.” _

_ He nuzzles the strap of her tanktop from her shoulder, ghosting his lips along the skin beneath. “If you say so.” _

_ “It wasn’t,” she repeats, but from her voice, she’s either not entirely sure or is rapidly losing focus. He thinks it’s the latter, but he needs to make certain. He braces himself with one hand, tucking the other beneath her back and slipping it under the thin fabric of her shirt. He leans forward, teasing softly along the edges of her lips before kissing her full on the mouth.  _

_ From the kitchen, he hears his phone ring.  _

_ “Don’t even think about it,” she says against his lower lip.  _

_ “Never,” he agrees, the feeling of her skin against his making the idea impossible to fathom.  _

_ His phone has stopped ringing for only a minute or two when hers begins. She closes her eyes for a second in seeming frustration, but soon there is a gentle sound as the bedroom door closes. The phone continues for a few seconds, barely audible and easily ignored. Her eyes open again, the deep silver glittering in the half-light of morning. He raises an eyebrow, just slightly, and then she rolls them both over, her legs smooth along his sides. Her hair tumbles around him, a nut-brown curtain that smells of cotton and verbena. _

_ “Worth it?” he asks as her eyes fade to once more to grey and green. _

_ “Worth it,” she confirms, her grin conspiratory. “Now, where were we?” _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the inimitable Xogs. All errors are my own. It's super short, but I really wanted to post something fluffy today because this weekend was basically The Worst, and it's sort of oozed over into the week, as well. Good vibes appreciated. Love you all! <3


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